


Open Arms

by lilsherlockian1975



Series: Journeys [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Ginger Sherlock, Humor, Pandora is not Molly's friend, Romance, Sherlolly - Freeform, Slow Dancing, Tiny bit of Angst, Valentine's Day, mollock, sort of a song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4825109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/pseuds/lilsherlockian1975
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Valentine's Day and Molly is trying to wallow in self pity (with the help of wine and 80's classics) when suddenly a ginger haired Sherlock shows up and ruins all of her plans. Someone makes an unexpected confession... well perhaps a couple of someones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sherlockian_87](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlockian_87/gifts).



> I started writing Sherlolly a year ago this month. Sherlockian87 was so incredibly supportive in those early days (and still is). I know my stories weren't very good and were riddled with mistakes, but she always commented and encouraged me. I don't think I've ever really expressed how much it meant to me (and still does). So here's my attempt at just that. Thank you so- so much for all your friendship and support. Love you, hun!
> 
> Oh and Streets, I know you said Open Arms was a 'panty dropper' but it's London, so I made up a silly thing... Hope you like it!
> 
> MizJoely beta-ed this, bless her (but any mistakes are all mine). And MrsMcrieff answered some Brit questions for me. Which leads me to explain something very quickly. Pandora is an internet music radio station. You select a band or genra of music and it chooses different songs for you. That should do it.
> 
> I own nothing here, please enjoy!

* * *

_Oh joy! Yet another Valentines day spent alone_ , Molly thought as she poured herself a second glass of wine. She got up from her sofa and walked over to her front window, watching a light snow fall. After a few minutes she simply couldn't take the silence of her flat. She switched on her telly and brought up Pandora. As she scrolled through her saved stations she realised all she really wanted to do was wallow in self pity; she was entitled to it. Her engagement was long over and she had no prospects on the horizon. Oh, then there was Sherlock. _Always Sherlock_. Lurking in the back of her mind every time she contemplated love... or the future... or damn near anything, but it was completely pointless.

She turned off all the lights in the flat, then sat herself down on the floor and called out pitifully for Toby (who never actually showed up). She stretched out to reach the bottle of wine for yet another refill, only to lose her balance and bump her head on the coffee table. "Suck a duck!" she exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot in her hairline. "Could this day get any worse?" she said out loud to her empty apartment. She decided to give up on the third glass, as Lionel Richie crooned in the background, _saying hello_ and asking if it _was him she was looking for_.

 _No Lionel... it's not you,_ she thought.

Just then she heard someone at her front door, fiddling with the lock. Her day was about to either get worse, or much worse. Because she was either about to be robbed/beaten/murdered or Sherlock was back from his case. He'd been gone for three weeks... Ireland or Italy? Didn't really matter, at the moment she was trying to figure out which was worse: an unknown burglar or Sherlock bloody Holmes inconveniencing her while she was trying to get pissed and feel sorry for herself.

She decided to stay put. If she was going to die, the floor was as good a place as any.

Finally the door opened and a very tall behatted man walked in. She could tell he was wearing a hat because he was back-lit from the hallway and missing his signature curls. If she knew one thing about the man from helping him hide out during his 'mission' it was that he would keep that hair at almost all cost. _Just a transport, my arse._ She secretly compared him to Samson, wondering if he cut his hair if he'd suddenly lose his supernatural powers of deduction.

"Why are you on your floor?" Sherlock asked, shutting the door and shaking snow off of his collar.

"Why are you wearing a hat? Oh, is it the deerstalker?" Molly asked, making no attempt to get up.

"It's bloody dark in here Molly, are you drinking alone... again? Get up!" He turned on the lamp next to her sofa then crossed over to her holding out his hand to assist her in standing up.

"I'm a grown woman. If I want to drink alone in the dark, I bloody well can!" she said in a not too friendly voice as she finally took his hand and stood. "Seriously, what's with the hat?"

"Oh, I forgot," he said taking it off then tossing it deftly onto the coat rack. A cocky smile formed on his lips as he watched it land easily onto a hook. He looked back at Molly, who was staring at his hair. "What?" he asked.

"You... you're g-ginger," she stammered.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, _that_. For the case." He took off his coat (not his Belstaff, no, a rough looking, leather jacket) and hung it up as well. When he turned back around Molly, she was still staring. "Molly, are you quite alright?"

She blinked several times and shook her head. "Um, yeah." She forced a laugh. "Of course, yeah. So why are you here?" she said turning and walking into the kitchen trying hard not to think about the fact that he was also wearing dark colored jeans and a tight-fitting tee-shirt.

"I'm starving and I had nothing at Baker Street."

She didn't turn around. "So instead of going to a restaurant or the shops like a normal person, you came here to harass me. Lovely." She opened her fridge.

Sherlock followed her and sat down at the kitchen table. "Well, I did just spend three weeks on a very taxing case and assumed you'd want to do your part in feeding me back up. You do so love to fuss over me, Molly," he said in his most insincere voice.

She just shook her head as she pursed her options. "Okay, I've got eggs... and... yeah, just eggs." She turned back around to face the ginger detective... big mistake. _How did I not notice the sideburns,_ she wondered.

Thankfully Sherlock wasn't paying attention this time, he was looking at his mobile. "Looks like I'm having eggs tonight then," he said not looking up from the device.

Molly tried to put her attention back on the egg preparation and make some small talk. "So, Mrs. Hudson's not in tonight?" she asked.

"She's in Dorset," he said still not looking up.

"Oh," Molly replied chancing a look back at him. The music was drifting in from the sitting room. This time George Michael was singing about being someone's _father figure_... she tried very hard not to think about the ridiculously sexy song as she broke eggs into a pan. She was frankly surprised that Sherlock hadn't complained about the music yet.

"What the hell are we listening to?" he asked as he put his mobile away.

 _It's like he can read my mind._ "It's Valentines Day Sherlock. I was listening to sappy love songs... alone, in my flat. I didn't know I was going to be getting a visitor." She popped some bread into the toaster. "And how do you not know this song? Did you even have a youth? Or did you just spring fully grown from Mycroft's brolly?"

Sherlock actually laughed at Molly's joke. "I did indeed have a youth, Molly. Though it's a bit patchy in spots."

 _Oh, the drugs,_ she thought. _We're comfortable enough to talk about that now._ She turned back to him.

"I deleted unimportant things such as tragically romantic and..." He cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "And evidently erotic love songs from my mind palace."

Molly drew a deep breath as she buttered the toast that had just popped up from the toaster. _I reeeally didn't need to hear him say the word 'erotic' right now_ , she thought.

Finally his food was finished and she handed it to him along with a cup of tea then sat down in front of him as he ate.

He cut his eyes up at her. "Aren't you eating anything?"

"I drank my dinner," she said.

"You really shouldn't drink alone, Molly sets up a bad precedent," he said before taking a bite.

"Yes, well..." The song had long since changed, and suddenly Tina Turner was asking her _what love had to do with it?_ Which was a very good question, now that she thought about it. As she glanced at Sherlock with his ginger curls, long sideburns and five o'clock shadow... Oh goodness she was getting herself worked up. Yes, she defiantly had a type. Tall, dark and handsome... but damn him and those sideburns. They just did something to her. And why was he somehow sexier as a ginger? She was staring, though she didn't realise that she was.

"Molly, are you enjoying watching me eat?" Sherlock asked as he took one last drink of his tea.

She, of course, snapped out of it then. "Oh, sorry. Zoned out a bit there." She stood up. "All finished?" she asked as she picked up the obviously empty plate. _Clearly he's finished Molly, you horny idiot_ , she thought at she put the plate in the sink then steadied herself against the counter top.

"You're acting a bit strange tonight." She heard Sherlock say from right behind her. Then she saw him put his tea cup in the sink. She cut her eyes up at him. "Ah, it's the hair, isn't it?"

Molly sighed. She really couldn't get away with anything around this man, could she? It was completely unfair. "Well, you _do_ look different." She tried to play it off and concentrate on the music, unfortunately Chris Isaak's Wicked Games came on... quite possibly the sexiest song in the history of...

Sherlock leant against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. "So, is my hair that disconcerting that you feel the need to stare Miss Hooper."

_~What a wicked game you play to, make me feel this way.~_

Molly tried very hard not to say anything stupid- anything incriminating, however when she turned to look at the man standing next to her dam just sort of... broke. "You look really fucking sexy, Sherlock, alright?!"

The smile that crept onto his face was not only alarming, it was downright terrifying.

Molly backed away from the sink trying to put as much distance between herself and the detective as possible. "Um, I mean... it's just... too much wine. You staying here? Do I need to make up the spare?"

Sherlock followed her movements, but as she started to move down the hallway, he blocked her path and she had no choice but to dart back into the sitting room. The song was winding down and she prayed for something innocuous to come on next. _Come on, I could really use some Rick Astley right now_ , she begged. Her prayers, however, went unanswered.

Suddenly Sherlock was right in front of her and the worst possible song came on... Molly gasped. Sherlock risked a glance at the telly. "What?" he asked.

Molly bit her lip and tried her best not to tremble. _Not fair... not fair at all!_ A ginger, sideburned Sherlock...and _Open Arms_ blaring in the background. Molly closed her eyes trying to regain some control. Not a smart move as it turned out, because suddenly Sherlock was very, very close.

"Dance with me Molly Hooper?" he said right next her ear as he placed a hand on her back while taking one of hers in his other hand.

"Wh-why?" she asked, eyes still close.

"Because it's Valentines Day. Because you obviously love this song. And because I'll only be a ginger for a few more hours."

Molly didn't exactly answer, but she was engulfed in Sherlock's arms nonetheless. She didn't dare open her eyes, she was afraid she'd wake up in the middle of the floor from the concussion she'd apparently given herself.

Sherlock leant down. "What's with the song Molly?" he whispered in her ear.

She huffed. "Don't want to talk about it Sherlock," she replied through gritted teeth.

"Hmmmm."

They continued to dance as the song's end fast approaching, Molly felt Sherlock releasing her back, though he held onto to her hand. He picked up the remote and restarted the song then tossed it onto the coffee table.

"What..." she started.

"It's a very short song."

This time he put both of her arms around his neck and placed his hands dangerously low on her back – almost, but not quite touching her bottom.

Molly melted into his embrace. She felt like a teenager again, dancing like a couple of kids at a school disco. As the singer crooned on and on begging some unamed woman to stay with him as he came to her with open arms... Molly lost herself for just a moment. She actually forgot that she was in her pj's in her living room dancing with the _bane of her existence_. That's when she realised that the song started up yet again.

She moved her hands down to Sherlock's well defined chest and pushed back a bit. "Sherlock? It's playing again."

"What'd you know?" he said with a smirk. "It will keep playing until you tell me what it is about this song that got you all... _distracted,_ Miss Hooper." They were still gently swaying.

 _It's all just a ploy for information,_ she thought. Fine, if he was playing games, she'd just play along and end it before her heart got broken into tiny little pieces. "This song, it's... well, a knicker-kicker."

Sherlock stopped moving. "A what?"

She rolled her eyes, realising how incredibly ridiculous this would sound to the consulting detective. "A song a bloke plays to get into a girls... pants. To... get rid of her knickers. Get it?" She made a face as if it should have been obvious, which it would have been to anyone other than Sherlock Holmes. She expected a derisive sneer or snarky comment but instead, Sherlock threw his head back and laughed. A loud, lustful belly laugh.

"What? Remember you're the one who asked," she said defensively but with a smile forming on her lips.

He laughed a little more then looked down at her, his smile never dropping. "Apropos, don't you think?"

"Sherlock, don't be an asre. It's bad enough that it's Val..." Her words were cut off by Sherlock's mouth as he crushed his lips to hers. Molly tensed then relaxed. The kiss was absolutely lovely. His lips were soft and warm as they glided over hers. She was just getting used to his amazing lips when suddenly his tongue grazed her lower lip. She opened to him and heard him emit a growl as he deepened the kiss. She raised her hands to his curly ginger locks just they broke for air. "Bloody hell, Sherlock! What the hell was that?"

Sherlock smirked, his eyes dancing over her face. "A kiss, Miss Hooper. Would you like another?"

Molly smiled dreamily and nodded.

He leant back down but this time he kissed her jaw just in front of her ear. "I want to kiss other parts of you too, would you like that?"

Molly's knees started to shake. _Oh, my God,_ she thought as Sherlock gripped her waist holding her up against a wall, that suddenly appeared behind her. _When did we move..._

"My hair... does something for you, doesn't it?" he asked bringing his face square to hers, brushing his nose against hers lightly.

Molly was still stunned and a bit shell-shocked, but managed to answer. "It's d-different... yes."

"So we can, just for tonight, pretend... that I'm still someone you want," he said looking almost shy.

 _What the... he- he thinks I don't still want him_ , Molly thought. "Sherlock, it's not just your hair..." she started.

"Yes, I deduce you're enjoying the sideburns as well." He placed opened mouth kisses along her jaw, trailing down her neck.

Molly tired to focus, though it wasn't going well. His hands had moved down and were skimming just under the waistband of her pajamas as he continued to lavish her neck with kisses and gentle nibbles. "Sh-Sherlock, I– oh God, that feels good. Um, I..." Molly paused trying to decide if her were brave enough to finish her sentence.

"You what, Molly?" Sherlock asked in a voice so deep Molly was sure she could feel the reverberation in her toes.

"I- I n-never stopped wanting you," she finally managed.

Sherlock backed up so quickly Molly almost fell over, she hadn't even realised that she'd been leaning on him. "Yes, yes you did. Your exact words were: 'I've moved on'." Molly must have made a face, even if she didn't realise she had, because Sherlock ran his hands through his orange locks and huffed. "Gabe told me. Not to mention you were engaged and having _quite a lot of sex,"_ he said in a mocking voice.

Molly rolled her eyes, even in the middle of... whatever was happening, because _really Gabe_?

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Was I close at least?"

"Not really, though I've heard you call him worse." She took a deep breath. "Look, I don't know why you're acting like this..." Molly waved her hands in the air ineffectually. "But, my engagement _did_ end, remember? Or did you delete that?" She moved past him to walk towards her sofa. "I certainly hope not, what with all the snogging," she mumbled under her breath.

Sherlock was right on her heals. "Molly..."

She turned around again to find herself inches away from the detective. "What Sherlock? I have no idea what you want or why you kissed me, and... said... things."

His eyes fluttered around the room almost frantically; he seemed to be on the verge of panic. "I always miss..." he muttered to himself.

Molly was, well she was confused. She was confused and a little worked up. What in the world was going on? She felt like she'd stepped into some alternate universe. Looking up at Sherlock for some kind of direction only confused her more. He seemed to have slipped into his mind palace for a moment. She wanted him to either go and leave her to her peaceful bitterness or get on with the snogging. _And damnit the song is still on repeat!_ Molly rushed over, grabbed the remote and hit thumbs down on Open Arms. "Oh, no. I meant to hit skip. I hate it when I do that," she said staring at the television. It didn't help that U2's _With or Without You_ came on immediately after. Molly threw her remote at her sofa in disgust. _Can't I get a freaking break tonight._

She was completely done- finished with Valentines Day, with Bono and with Sherlock's _mystery kisses_. She turned off the telly, marched up to the consulting detective and goosed him... hard.

Sherlock yelped in pain as he came out of his self-imposed trance. "For God's sake Molly! What was that for? I was thinking."

"You invade my home, con me into cooking you dinner, then kiss me breathless. No explanation other than you usual weirdness. Now explain or get out!" Molly was almost yelling at the man by the end.

Sherlock stared down at her for several seconds then he sort of lost it. "I fancy you! Happy?" he yelled back. "I fancy you and I thought you were over me. But tonight you got that _look_ in your eyes!"

"What look? I didn't give you a look!" Molly yelled back, mostly because she was caught up in the fury of their argument. That would also explain how she seemed to miss the 'fancy' part of his explanation.

"You're denying _the look_ when you actually said that I looked really fucking sexy?" he argued.

Well that shut her up.

Sherlock took a moment. He was just staring at Molly. His eyes softened and he lowered his voice. "I haven't seen that look in a very long time."

That's when the 'fancy' caught up to her. _Oh... oooh_. Molly didn't really know what to say. Sherlock was biting his bottom lip and concentrating on her hardwood floor. Finally she couldn't take it any more. "Sherlock," Molly said taking a step closer as she gathered her thoughts. If this had happened three or four years ago, she would have assumed he was playing with her feelings. But not now, not since the Fall. She knew she'd seen the real Sherlock Holmes that night, this was something they were both aware of. He couldn't fool her anymore. The experience had changed things between them. "I'm a bit confused. If you thought I wasn't interested... anymore, then what... I mean..."

When he looked back up at her, Molly's words died on her tongue because she saw something she'd never seen before in the detective; he looked sad and almost embarrassed. It wasn't the look of vulnerability he given her that night before the Fall, nor was it the look of utter loss he had about him the night afterwards. This was something completely different. It frankly broke her heart.

"Honestly?" he asked and Molly nodded.

"I thought, perhaps, I could have just one night. I hoped, it would be enough." He swallowed and looked away. "I could store it in my mind palace and hold on to it. Maybe it could," he said struggling with his words. "Comfort me when I had to watch you fall in love, get married, have the life I can never have."

Molly didn't realise she'd started crying until Sherlock finally looked back up and met her eyes.

"Why are you crying, Molly?"

She had to actually think about it for a moment; she was so overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. "Because I know how this hurts- what your feeling, that is." As much as he drove her insane, she'd never wish the kind of painful longing that she'd gone through for the last six years on him... never. Not even for a minute. She wiped the tears off of her cheeks then asked _the question_... the question that could possibly break two hearts at once. "Why can't you have... that life?" _What's holding him back now?_

Sherlock seemed genuinely shocked for a split second, but he quickly recovered. "Because I thought I had missed my chance."

Molly felt relief wash over her. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest. "You're an idiot."

Sherlock huffed. "I assure you, Molly... I'm not."

"Well you are. And if that's your only reason..." She shook her head. "Oh, fuck it," she mumbled as she launched herself into his arms. He caught her and held her tight to his chest, as this time Molly made it hard for Sherlock to form a coherent thought. She kissed him as he stumbled backwards until his legs hit her over-sized arm chair and they landed with a _humph_. Breaking the kiss Molly said, "I never moved on, Sherlock. I couldn't." She felt rather pathetic saying it out loud, even as Sherlock held her and looked at her adoringly. "But I wouldn't have ever though you felt the same. Bloody, prideful..."

Sherlock cut her off. "Well, I think it's quite a lucky break that I came over for nourishment this evening, Molly. Don't you?" He kissed her again.

"You don't believe in luck." A breathless Molly answered when the kiss ended.

"Oh, I don't know... ginger hair, a case in Ireland then I come home to find you alone on the most romantic, yet ridiculous holiday ever conceived. And you have to admit, of all the songs that could have played..."

"You don't know how many times I've listened to that song, Sherlock. It's no surprise that the station chose to play it."

"But right at that moment? Come on Molly, the universe is rarely so lazy," he said with a wide smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think, I love hearing from all of you! Visit me on tumblr, same name. ~Lil~


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